


7, 14, 21

by PGT



Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Reverie (One Piece), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-10-29 02:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17799863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PGT/pseuds/PGT
Summary: Roronoa Zoro serves as a guard every seven years at the World Council Reverie. As an apprentice, he meets the Third Prince of Germa and thinks little of their meeting until a year later, when the prince's death makes the headlines.When the prince returns 14 years later engaged in a political marriage, Zoro seems to be the only one asking questions.I should note I wrote this assuming the Reverie was every seven years, which is wrong. But just imagine it is.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Multichapter fic??? Hopefully I keep up with it eh?  
> Eventually this will become Zosan, maybe 18+ but for now it's pg  
> Feel free to comment ^^

The first time Roronoa Zoro met the third prince of the Vinsmoke family, they were both seven. Even so young, they had lived very different lives. 

As a future guard of the Reverie, Zoro had been being training as an apprentice, standing rigid at a pillar just beside his mentor, arms flat to his side, chest puffed out as if he might look more threatening even in his youth, while the slow flood of queens, kings, heirs and nobles filtered in through the grand doors to a dining table. 

The king of Germa had brought his heirs, and as they tramped into the room Zoro couldn’t help but eye them. “Immature,” was the first word he thought of, as though they walked with a princely air their mouths were broad grins. Giggles and words passed between them, elbows knocking sides and small punches thrown when adults weren’t looking. 

It just so happened that they were seated across from Zoro’s station, and it was hard not to let his attention remain on the small herd. His attention immediately gravitated to the girl, who had been the most mature of the group. For a moment, she reminded him of Kuina, until her eyes passed across his, and a shiver fell down his spine.

Zoro knew what the Vinsmokes were famous for, he had been briefed on every guest of the political forum. Their name was so synonymous with evil, they had been used as villains in famous Navy comics. Scientists, soldiers, and killers were all that they were ever expected to be. Even though their rampage had died down before Zoro was born, they were still a force to be reckoned with, and as he watched each child, their eyes gradually confirmed that this next generation would be no different.

No, because Sanji had been different. Zoro hadn’t understood the details at the time, but the third son in his vibrant yellow dress shirt was nothing like his siblings. It was as if his personality was as muted as his shirt was blinding. He sat with hunched shoulders, eyes cast to his plate even before food had been served. His brothers knocked elbows with him as much as each other, but as time passed Zoro quickly realized Sanji’s blows did little in comparison to the body-jolting jabs he received.

“Weak,” was the word that came to Zoro as he watched the child from the wall. But even “weak,” he reasoned, was better than evil.

 

Through the night, stations were shifted and small breaks were given to the apprentices. When the guests of the Reverie had finished their meals, the remaining food was returned to the kitchen where guards might be able to snag a quick snack to sate their appetites for the evening.

Though he insisted he wasn’t hungry, Mihawk had insisted Zoro eat. He slipped through the shadows of the pillars to a servant door and traveled through tangled tunnels to the kitchen. He wouldn’t admit that he was grateful for the well-labeled turns and doors, or that the smell of food had been integral to finding the right paths. When he had arrived in the kitchen, there was still plenty of food to pick from.

Chefs and bakers danced around the invasive guards with expertise, balancing trays of piping hot cakes and full glasses and empty platters with as much attentiveness as Zoro saw on the training floors. Though most of the cooking had been finished, desserts and drinks were to be served throughout the night and dishes and cookware needed to be cleaned.

Zoro realized in that moment that for a guard, most of the day’s work was standing alert. For cooks, he thought the work was much more arduous. 

He tried not to get in the way as he navigated to the small horde of guards, and to the table of plates and platters and pots that they surrounded. He was tall enough to grab what he wanted, fistfuls of juicy meats and flaky fish and seasoned rice washed down with a soup an adult had graciously offered him. He hadn’t been given a return time, but he wanted to get back to his post as soon as possible, and decided finishing his meal on the way back to the dining hall was his best option. So with a steak in one hand and a drumstick in the other he made his way back through the traffic of chefs to the little servant’s doors.

When he opened the door, however, he was frozen in place at the sight of the third prince of Germa. Recognizing he was caught, the boy’s one visible eye widened, and he covered his head as if protecting himself. Perhaps he expected Zoro to hit him, like his brothers did.

Instead, he shut the door behind him and stuffed another bite of steak in his mouth.

“Want some?” He offered the drumstick, though he silently hoped the prince wouldn’t want any.

After some time and blinking, the boy’s raised hands lowered to meet in a tangle in front of him. “I already ate,” he murmured.

Zoro nodded, and drew his hand back. “I’ve got to go back to the dining room, I’ll take you back. How’d you get lost in the servant halls of all places?”

He walked past the prince, noting the clicking steps of the prince following close behind.

“I wasn’t lost.”

“The adults bore you into adventuring through random doors, then?”

“I just wanted to see the kitchen, that’s all.”

Though it was strange for a royal to want to see the kitchens, Zoro supposed that Germa’s heirs were hardly normal, and that it wasn’t his place to talk rudely to a prince. He didn’t want something he said to damage his career as a guard.

The footsteps behind him stopped at a turn, and when Zoro turned to see what had stopped the prince, his expression had shifted. For only an instant, his wimpy exterior disappeared, replaced with an incredulous look. “Where are you going, marimo?”

The name had ruffled his feathers, though he didn’t know exactly what it meant. More embarrassing was that he knew his unique sense of direction must have betrayed him in front of the little prince. He didn’t mean to get defensive, but it came naturally as he sputtered, “Back to the dining hall, dart-brow!”

“Dart-brow?” The kid covered his visible eyebrow and his cheeks grew a deep shade of red.  
“Got a problem with something I’m doing?” Zoro cursed himself for embarrassing the prince, praying silently he wouldn’t get Zoro fired.

“You’re going the wrong way, you...” He puffed his cheeks as he scanned the guard for something to insult, locking in on the swords at his hip, “You shitty swordsman!”

Zoro stalked back down the hall to the junction, noting that the arrows on the wall did, in fact, point in the opposite direction than he had gone.

The small banter went back and forth, Zoro irritated by the potential trouble he was getting himself into but too prideful not to retort every insult the prince threw at him. He was a Vinsmoke after all, he thought to himself when the prince bristled, laughed at his directionlessness, and especially when he elbowed Zoro like the siblings had been. The impact had been surprisingly strong, almost knocking Zoro off balance. He wondered if Sanji had been going easy on his brothers, or if they were like brick walls to take a shove like that so easily.

By the time they had gotten to the dining hall, Zoro had given in to the pushing and kicking Sanji had been delivering him, returning shoves and jabs of his own. At the door, they both stopped and sobered. Zoro hadn’t realized the prince had been smiling until he suddenly wasn’t, his mouth becoming a thin line as he looked at the door.

“I hadn’t considered the coming back part...” He murmured.

“You’ll get scolded for running off, huh shitty-prince?”

Zoro snickered at the idea-- he had been punished for wasting time getting lost, it was surely the same-- until Sanji’s eyes grew dark, and it was clear the situation was no longer fun.

There was a beat of silence, and Zoro found himself feeling responsible all of a sudden. “How about I just help you out, say you were lost?”

Sanji’s eye flickered to Zoro’s, though he seemed to think it wouldn’t necessarily change the outcome. Regardless, as he turned back to the door he softly uttered, “Would you?”

And so, with as much dramatic flair as he could muster, Zoro charged out of the servant’s door grasping the prince’s hand. Several heads turned to the loud entrance, including the Vinsmokes and Mihawk, who’s face immediately hardened.

Zoro walked the prince to his seat, ignoring the stares and the prince’s dragging feet and tightening grasp. 

At Judge’s side, he bowed sharply, not looking up as he muttered an apology and an excuse. “He was lost returning from the washroom, I helped him find his way back.”

Two of the Vinsmoke children snickered at the guard’s line, one scoffed at his presence entirely. Judge sat silent, before grunting, waving an arm to dismiss him.

In that moment Zoro had to pry Sanji’s hand from his own, and he didn’t ask himself why.

The rest of that night, Zoro felt the family’s eyes on him. The children whispered when they could without getting caught, Sanji falling lower and lower in his seat at whatever they were saying to him. But Zoro didn’t have time to worry about the prince, having his own mentor’s piercing gaze just above him.

 

A year after the reverie meeting, Zoro had been meditating in his room. It was a regular practice of his post-workout, and was respected by his mentor as a private time. Mihawk rarely interrupted Zoro’s meditations, only doing so for emergencies.

When a knock pattered against his door, Zoro blinked away his focus and called for the swordsman to come in.

He entered with a newspaper folded beneath his arm and a small scowl, though the second detail was hardly irregular. 

“Would you mind me asking you a question?” Mihawk spoke from the threshold, leaning against it. 

Zoro wondered what the emergency was. “Go ahead.”

“Do you remember that Vinsmoke prince you helped last Reverie?”

Zoro grimaced. He had told Mihawk the truth of their encounter, and though he didn’t seem to mind their interaction Zoro was still scolded for misconduct. He wasn’t keen to think about that punishment again. “I do.”

Mihawk stepped forward, pulling the papers from his arm and unfolding the papers to a particular article.

 

“I know you had only met once, but I thought you might like to know.”

Zoro took the proffered paper, and it took no time at all for the bold headline and photo to make themselves known.

‘Third prince of Germa, Sanji Vinsmoke, Dies’

He didn’t bother to read the article, his gut having twisted from the headline alone. The picture they had added to the picture was the prince with a bright smile Zoro had only ever seen in the servant’s tunnels that night.

 

He didn’t know how to feel. Zoro didn’t know Sanji well after all. They’d seen each other once, and it would have been six years before they ever saw each other again anyways. But for some reason, the pain in his gut was growing, and his eyes burned.

“You rarely get along with other children, I thought you might have been disappointed if he were missing next Reverie and I hadn’t told you.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Zoro gave the paper back, still sorting out his feelings when Mihawk had closed the door behind him.

He didn’t feel much like meditating any more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reverie 2.

Zoro’s second Reverie came faster than the first had. At fourteen, he was given his own station, no longer an assistant to Mihawk, but standing at his own pillar. He wore the official uniform of a Marie Jois Guard, his unique arsenal of three steel-bladed katana sheathed at his hip. The guest list was more or less the same, but one missing name stood out. 

Sanji Vinsmoke.

Zoro didn’t feel a twist in his gut when he saw the Vinsmokes listed, but he remembered the discomfort he felt when he’d first read the news. He was older now, and with age came wisdom. In hindsight, he could connect dots about Sanji’s behavior that he hadn’t when they were younger. He hadn’t batted an eye at how the siblings treated each other back then. Now he wondered what made Sanji so scared when he was returned to the table. He wondered why Sanji had wanted to see the kitchen.

The first guests arrived; King Neptune, King Don Quixote Doflamingo, King Nefertari Cobra and his young daughter Vivi. He ran through the list, watched as they smiled and greeted one another and found their way to the table.

When the Vinsmokes entered, he found his jaw setting painfully. Four children proudly entered the room: Reiju, the eldest. She walked like a woman, differently from her brothers. Zoro recognized her wearing high heels beneath a velvet pink dress and sheer wing-like cloak. Ichiji and Niji were no longer children but growing muscle and jawlines. They walked in matching blue and red suits and synced strides side by side. Behind them in similar dress, Yonji. The youngest and, with an early growth spurt, the tallest Vinsmoke child. His proportions were still in that stage of adjustment, and as he spoke to his brothers in front of him, Zoro noticed his voice had pitched dramatically deeper in puberty.

He didn’t notice that he had been watching them so openly until the youngest’s eyes fell on him. He beamed childishly and, though he was still too far to hear clearly, his baritone caught the attention of his siblings, and soon all their gazes fell on Zoro.

His jaw cramped with the pressure he was putting on it. He didn’t bother to look away now, but felt himself straighten as much as he could to seem taller.

The royals made their way towards him. Their father was talking to some princess from the New World, but Zoro must have been more interesting than politics to the children. Reiju openly eyed him head to toe. Ichiji and Niji shared a look of disgust. Yonji simply grinned. When they were close enough to greet him, they naturally formed a semicircle around him.

“Yo,” Yonji rumbled, eyeing Zoro in a way he couldn’t read.

“What a waste of time,” Ichiji sighed.

“Be polite,” Reiju purred, eyes piercing Zoro’s. He wanted to shy away from her, but stood his ground. The way she stared at him was confusing, like she had something in her mind he couldn’t read.

“Just wanted to say hi to the last friend Sanji ever had, that’s all!” Yonji barked with a laugh, clapping a hand on his shoulder. His grip was bruising, and Zoro let his stony expression twist into a grimace.

“He should be awarded for dealing with such a useless bastard, even if only for a few minutes.” Niji huffed, looking around the room as if anything would be more interesting than this conversation. Zoro was inclined to agree with that sentiment.

“I don’t know whether I should be proud or ashamed that I’m so memorable.”

“The latter, probably. Thank Yonji we bothered to talk to you.”

“I’m flattered.” He matched the fellow green-haired’s eyes, numbly remembering that word Sanji had called him, ‘marimo.’ Yonji would suit the name as well as he did, but Zoro knew better than to share banter with these four like he had their brother. “If that’s all, I’m on duty.”

Yonji’s vice tightened until it was almost unbearable before he backed off. He looked between his two brothers with a grin. “Wouldn’t it be fun to tell him?”

Ichiji smacked the back of his head rather harshly, knocking away his smile. “That’s a private matter, Yonji, and it’s not like the end result wouldn’t be the same by now.”

“What are you talking about?” Zoro tried to sound more annoyed than curious. 

“If Father sees us fraternizing with a guard we won’t be properly representing Germa. Yonji, this was a simple hello.” Niji kicked his brother as well, before stalking away.

“He’s right, lets go.” Ichiji sighed, giving a half-assed glance at the guard one last time and following suit. Yonji left too, until only Reiju remained. Zoro watched her expression, as if she were struggling to keep a secret.

“Reiju, lets go!” Ichiji growled from the table, where he was searching for their nameplates.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Then, Zoro blinked, and whatever conflict she was fighting vanished, and her face read just as indifferent as her brothers.

She turned and left to meet her brothers with a flourish, her sheer cape brushing his legs with the propulsion of her spin. Her heels clicked loudly, even in the quickly filling room. He let his eyes follow her until more guests blocked his vision. When he let his eyes wander, they fell on Mihawk, stationed too far away to talk, but close enough that Zoro knew he could have seen the interaction. His crimson glare confirmed this.

Zoro tried to put off the interaction for the rest of the night. It was hard, when there was very little to distract him. The guests close to him talked about trade and politics he didn’t understand or care about-- it was rare trade or politics ever mattered to a resident of Marie Jois, and though he was older than the last Reverie, Zoro wasn’t quite at the age that he found politics interesting. Mihawk had said no such age existed.

He tried to focus on the room. On the windows that a pirate might infiltrate from, the glass ceilings and numerous doors. It was a vulnerable meeting place, but he knew no one would interfere. No one could get through the city with such high security let alone the reverie meeting itself. So his mind drifted back to that damned North Blue quartet. He had only met Sanji once, and that had been enough to impress them? What the hell had Sanji’s life been if a trip through a hallway and a quick apology was something worth remembering? The sister pissed him off more than anything. What was she hiding? And what the hell had Yonji been talking about?  
He caught himself staring at them as the guest settled into their chairs. Their backs were towards him, and he was silently grateful that it kept them from catching him again. Ichiji and Reiju participated in the politics at the table. Niji picked at his meal with a grimace. Yonji just seemed happy to be there. Zoro hated that he hoped for any sort of answer to his questions to simply appear on the backs of their chairs. 

That year Zoro didn’t get answers, but he started asking questions.

Four nights passed before Mihawk approached him to ask about his encounter with the royals. He asked in that indistinguishable way he always seemed to talk, as if he didn’t care, but at the same time demanded an answer. Zoro told him about the way Reiju looked at him, and the tease Yonji had provided. While Mihawk couldn’t give him answers either, he could point the way.

Mihawk didn’t stay at Marie Jois all year round like Zoro. He had is own ship-- barely a raft, but not distinguished as such for fear of disrespect-- and could come and go as he pleased. Between Zoro’s second and third reverie, Mihawk had left for the East Blue without explanation, only to “confirm a suspicion.”

He had come back with answers, Zoro could tell. He didn’t know what answers to a northern kingdom could be found in the East Blue, and Mihawk wouldn’t give them up. But the nonanswer was something; it meant there was more to that boy he’d merely met once. It meant there was reason behind the way that stupid family lingered in his mind.

He focused on training after that. He earned scars and muscle. Years passed and he became a man. He had long forgotten his obsession with the Vinsmokes, favoring combat and drink and sleep to the complex mystery. 

But less than a year until his third Reverie, it all came crashing back. He had been drinking in his favorite bar, wanting nothing more than a good buzz to settle down with. He was a frequent enough customer that people knew to mind his space unless it was really worth interrupting his personal time with a bottle. When he sensed two sets of eyes staring holes into his back, his content state fell to his better known scowl. He grabbed the bottle and stood, ready to confront whoever had enough intense energy for him to feel it--

Only for it to be Jonny and Yosaku. He rolled his eyes at them as they startled at his notice. When he stalked towards their table, tipping clear liquor passed his lips, they seemed to scramble for some sort of composure.

He sat at a third chair at the table without a word. He knew the two well enough to know they'd be explaining and apologizing within seconds.

Sure enough, Johnny spoke with a panicked tenor, arms out as if to soothe a riled animal. “Sorry to interrupt, Zoro, we just, we saw this article and it's gonna impact the Reverie is all--”

“We were thinking of telling you before you got some formal briefing--” Yosaku took the reins for a moment, hands curled around a rolled newspaper.

“Make it quick,” Zoro growled with indifference, but he knew the two probably weren't wasting his time. They respected Zoro more than most, revered him as a senior in the field. They would be hard pressed to intentionally get on his bad side.

“It's-- I thought I remembered this name on your tongue is all,” Johnny took the rolled papers from Yosaku and sprawled them out, flipping to a large headline:

‘Marriage of Charlotte Family and Vinsmoke's Returned Third Prince Brings Outrage to World Government’

He blinked several times, not so much at the headline-- no, he hadn't had to read it to be hooked. What caught his eye was a complementing image of a wanted poster.

“He's alive,” Zoro breathed. He didn't know why he felt such a punch of relief.

“What? Oh, yeah, returned prince. Weird.” Johnny frowned at Zoro's expression, whatever he was outwardly expressing not his usual steely frown. “But more importantly this year's reverie is going to be hell!”

He jabbed a finger at the paragraph beneath the photo. “Germa 66 is breaking policy when it comes to connections to pirates with this wedding. If they come it will still be legal, the wedding is just after the Reverie, so technically they haven't broken any rules yet--”

“Is he coming?” Zoro nodded to the picture. He couldn't find it in himself to care about the politics of pirates and government right now, though a faint hum in the back of his mind understood that his job would be a bit harder this year.

“Judge Vinsmoke has never left his heirs behind during the Reverie, I don't know why he would leave one now.”

“He's a pirate now, though,” Johnny mused. “Surely it wouldn't be allowed?”

“Neither is the marriage but Germa doesn't seem to mind.” Yosaku reasoned.

Zoro let the words flow over him, taking them in and storing them for later. He was far too distracted taking in the wanted poster before him, the idea of seeing that seven year old boy fourteen years later. He had so many questions, idle curiosities he had forgotten crashing back to the forefront of his mind.

After that, he started counting the days until the next Reverie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steeled myself to get this chapter done today only to realize I already did??? oops  
> Enjoy, feel free to comment ^^


End file.
